


Secrecy Is An Addiction: First Year

by assassinade



Series: Secrecy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slytherin Hermione, The Golden Trio, Tomboy Hermione, mentions of abuse, slightly dark hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinade/pseuds/assassinade
Summary: Life hasn't been too great for Hermione Granger, but learning that she is a witch creates high hopes in her mind. Arriving at Hogwarts was a pleasure, and she soon finds out that dangers lie within the castle, especially now that she is the first Muggleborn to be sorted into Slytherin. She has a secret she must keep if she doesn't want to suffer more than she already has. She's been bread to be mysterious yet feisty; a challenging persona. Whilst battling her inner demons regarding whether she was the reason for her mistreatment at home, she's slowly trying to make friends. Time will tell who is loyal and who is not, as well as bring along some pleasant, or non-pleasant, surprises.





	1. The Beginning - I've Got My Own Story To Tell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first HARRY POTTER fan-fiction, and I'd like to say that even as I am still writing it, I am very proud of it. 
> 
> It depicts the exact moments I would've liked to see in the actual books/movies. 
> 
> I've always thought Hermione's home life was never explored or broadened, and therefore I decided to give it a little bit of a dark and dramatic tinge. In my mind, Hermione is a perfect candidate for Slytherin, but that doesn't mean she will instantly befriend Draco. Although she is rather secretive and mysterious, her coldness and distance from others doesn't necessarily go hand in hand with Draco's meanness and repulsiveness. She's still highly intelligent, cautious and non-gullible, therefore she doesn't fall into traps or forbidden friendships easily. 
> 
> Now, all I'm gonna say is that she's been through a lot and will continue to be.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy...

Stars were firmly embedded in the midnight sky, a swirl of dazzle radiating in front of Hermione’s eyes. The wooden bottom of the boat shook slightly beneath her, a small wave of salty water lingering underneath. She felt the tiny jump of the sea a little too greatly for her liking. She made herself not look at the glistening pool of liquid, as beautiful as she knew it was. Her vision was enraptured by the massive galaxy of dark colors above her. She saw the peak of what looked like a tall stone castle, but she didn’t want to avert her eyes from the engulfing atmosphere just yet. As another bump hit the planks of their little ship, she jolted lightly, and brought her attention to the school. They were nearing a large and empty field of grass that led upwards to the building. As they came close to the shore, Hermione compared her rocky train ride to the serene boat journey she had just experienced.

She was definitely not expecting to run into Harry Potter himself, or his red-headed friend. After her encounter with them, she did reckon that she might’ve been a little bit too cold and had shown off, but truth be told, she was just very excited as well as extremely nervous. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t expected to run into anyone. At first, she believed this to be some sick joke, but on second thought, she realized that being the product of humiliation and ending up in some random far-away place was anyways a lot better than remaining at home with her parents. She had stumbled upon her first mistake as well: she had failed to find Neville’s frog, Trevor, and reflexively noted down that not being able to help a possible friend was strike one, at least in her book. To be perfectly honest, she didn’t have too much interest in the boy, on the contrast, he seemed quite dumb and naïve, which did not up mount to her standards. _Did she even have standards?_ She thought mindlessly. All she knew is that she didn’t necessarily want to associate with that boy, or with the orange-haired Ron Weasley, as he had called himself. This judgement was quite harsh on her behalf, she gathered, but in all fairness, this was her only good shot at acquainting herself with others, and her pal group (or pair) _had_ to be perfect. It must not be overseen that she makes the ideal friend or friends, for she had never had one before.

The dingy cruisers touched down on the ground with a nimble puff, tipping backwards ever so lightly. Hermione stepped out carefully, inspecting her surroundings closely. She couldn’t see too well; her vision was compromised by the blackness of the still night. Gingerly stepping on the soft grass, she followed the hairy giant who she recalled was named Hagrid, trying not to get pushed by the kids around her. She felt a lot smaller than the rest. Probably because she was. She hadn’t remembered a time when someone hadn’t told her that she was very little, and her bony knees and pointy elbows definitely did not advantage her lesser height. Peering at the taller heads above her, she continued on her way. Everyone was chattering amongst themselves and squealing whilst skipping along. Well, all except Hermione. Appearances were important, and she couldn’t be seen jumping around like some little kid. Not that it was in her nature either. Pushing her brown curly locks over her shoulders, she strode forwards confidently, finding a gap in the mass of children. 

Ascending the path, she saw a few carriages, with no horse attached or coachman to tend to it, might she add. Hagrid signaled them onto the means of transport which led them away into the deep corners of a dense forest, where the only thing visible was a twinkle of very light, platinum hair.

*** 

Entering the castle, she adjusted her robes so that they wouldn’t drop down off of one of her shoulders. She ensured that all her buttons were neatly done and that her skirt was wrinkle-free and straight. Oh God, how she hated skirts. She was instructed to wear one on their arrival at Hogwarts. Why, she wasn’t sure, but she hoped that the following days (and for the rest of the school year) she would be allowed to put on the multiple pairs of trousers she had brought with her. Her legs were getting cold, her stupid flats not keeping her warm. Another item added to the list of things she would burn, along with those pesky skirts.  
Once again running a hand through her thick hair, she flicked it backwards and out of her eyes. She had cut her bangs in a flawlessly straight line, above her long eyebrows, so that they wouldn’t bother her. 

They stomped across a flight of marble stairs huddled altogether. Hermione never liked crowds or being part of a straining collective group, but she had no choice. She couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. She wasn’t scared or intimidated by small places, just by people all knit together in a designated area. 

A tall, graceful woman appeared before them, dressed in green velvet from head to toe. She was, by all means, very old, and her emerald eyes gazed at every single student vividly. Her hair was stiffened in place, by what Hermione could only assume was some very high-quality hairspray, under her quirky hat. No grey hair stuck out; they were all plastered against her scalp. _Must’ve taken a hell of a time for her to get that hairstyle._

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” her voice was pointy and clear, although it was a bit shaky. “I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, you will pass these doors and join your classmates. However, before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses.” 

_Houses…_

Hermione had read about the four houses in a book called ‘Hogwarts: A History’, straight after she purchased it in a shop on Diagon Alley. 

She went on to name all of the possible houses, Hermione recalling every single one, and how the students sharing a house are like a family. The Professor referenced the rules and consequences of breaking them, as well as points given for being vigilant, which could lead them to the House Cup. Mid-speech, a rather large boy se recognized as Neville stumbled forwards, yelling “Trevor!” So, he had found his missing toad. Everyone snickered, but they were instantly hushed by the woman before them. 

Professor McGonagall marched away with an elegant posture, her heels clinking in the distance. The second she turned a corner, the idle chatter they were instructed not to commence, started. The first proper tone stood out lurid and strong:

“So it’s true then, what they’re saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” 

The sliver of white hair that she’d seen in the dark emerged, walking up to where Harry potter stood. She looked at his pale face and piercing blue eyes. _Came from somewhere in the North, that one did._

He continued as everyone muttered ‘Harry Potter’s’ golden name under their breaths as if it was sacred. Hermione on the other hand, did no such thing. She just stared promptly at the two very contrasting boys, eyebrows furrowed. 

“This is Crabbe and Goyle,” the smirking boy motioned with the tilt of his head to two boulder-like children. Their faces were round and bulky, eyes small and pressed inside their fat heads. “And I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” he said proudly, inching closer to Harry whilst pushing away some other kid. 

Ron Weasley carelessly snickered, gaining a threatening look from Malfoy.  
“You think my name’s funny, do you? Don’t need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley.” Ron looked at him displeasingly and saddened, as Malfoy went on to face Harry. “You’ll soon find out that some Wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there,” He stretched out a ghost-like hand, offering Harry a shake. In turn, Harry looked down at his proposal, and declined with a smart comment:

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” 

In that same moment, Malfoy’s irritated stare was interrupted by the Professor taping his shoulder with what looked like some sort of paper tube. Hermione was amused by Harry’s actions as she walked away, led by their teacher. 

They all sauntered into a great hall filled with long, dark-brown tables. Other pupils older than them were already sat down, cheering when the first years entered. Hermione gawked curiously at the bewitched ceiling and the candelabra, as well as taking in the tall, cream, rock walls. Everything looked sculpted out of a fairy tale, only she didn’t like or believe in imaginative children’s stories. Yet here she was, living one.

The group all gathered up in front of what was presumed as the teacher’s dining table, and surprisingly, a tiny timber stool. Questioning faces glanced at each other, until they were silenced by Professor McGonagall directing her head towards an aged man with a long, pearl-white beard, and a very dubious, colorful outfit. His name, as Professor McGonagall pointed out, was Dumbledore.

He instructed everyone on more follow-up rules, at which Hermione yawned. She found the forbidden corridors and floors interesting, but the idea of not entering them bored her. She was even more intrigued to pursue them after the given description, presumably looking for trouble. She knew what would happen at home when she was up to no good, but surely that wouldn’t happen here, right? Her parents' attitude was far from normal or decent, that she knew. A few points taken away by a teacher would probably be her punishment. No biggie. Who would care about some dumb points anyways?

As Dumbledore’s speech ended, McGonagall brought out a battered Wizard’s hat and placed it on the stool. It looked very dirty and _somehow_ old. All of a sudden, it started talking, a long song quivering from its… lips?

The tuneful poem mentioned the four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, as well as their specific traits. Hermione for one, was interested in Slytherin; it sounded the most badass and mysterious. She eyed Malfoy intensely, knowing for sure that that rude little boy would be placed in Salazar’s house. She was slightly enamored by him, but she had no idea why, as from first impressions he seemed like an insolent, disrespectful idiot. What could she say about respect though, when she was planning on not following the rules? 

A few names were called before she heard her own. They were all said alphabetically by their last name, she noticed, and ‘G’ wasn’t too far along. Everyone would be placed in their fitted house by the Sorting Hat, and sonorous applauses would erupt through the hall. She broke through the heated pack of children, and positioned herself on the chair comfortably. Her feet dangled a few centimeters off the ground, reminding her of how short she was. She paid no further attention to that, and focused on the talking hat that was aimed above her head. It said a couple of things she hoped only she could hear, but judging by the grins and babble going on between the students, the hat’s thoughts weren’t only for her to catch.

_I see a lot of bravery… followed by undeniable mischief. A clever mind as well, yes very intelligent… Yet it doesn’t possess the depths of empathy or understanding. I see cold lingering… I sense mystery and… darkness. You’d do well in multiple houses… Not Hufflepuff. Shall it be Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? No… you most definitely fit perfectly in… SLYTHERIN!_


	2. A Muggleborn In Slytherin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, enjoy...

Enthusiasm filled Hermione Granger to the brink. A smile grew big on her angular face; a grin wider than she’d ever been able to produce. It slowly turned into somewhat of an evil smirk; she could feel it on her complexion. She jumped lowly off of the insignificant piece of furniture, heading smugly to the Slytherin table, the same wicked leer tracing the bottom of her face. With small and careful steps, she reached an empty spot and crossed over the plank, sitting on the bench. She had received a moderate number of claps from the three houses all together, excepting hers: Slytherin had congratulated her deafeningly, rising on their feet. She took in the glamour without making a fuss or showing off. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her hands tremoring rather violently. It was a good feeling though, one that slithered through her blood and veins in generous amounts. Looking ahead, she wasn’t too attentive to all the other students sorted, but she duly noted that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had both been put in Gryffindor, whilst Malfoy joined her in Slytherin. He sat straight across from her, winking devilishly at her. She didn’t know what to take from the minimal interaction. _Did it mean that Malfoy perhaps wanted to get to know her? Did it mean that he hated her?_ All she knew is that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. 

She was awakened indecently from her thoughts, by none other than the boy who was persistent in her mind:

“So, Granger,” Hermione fixed her piercing eyes on him. “The sorting hat had a lot to say about you.” He said in a manner that made him seem intrigued.

Everyone surrounding them now turned their attention to their not-so private conversation. _Why were they so fascinated about her?_

“I guess it did,” She didn’t let her guard down, her tone cold and harsh, whilst lifting her nose slightly.

“Some of the things it said were pretty interesting, don’t you think?” Malfoy’s sneer did not leave his face.

“Well it was talking about _me_ , so I guess it was expected that whatever it spat out of its mouth was remarkable.” Her arms were placed above one another, blocking off the access to her mind. _The stone walls were already in action._

A few chuckles and ‘woos’ tainted the air, but Hermione’s lips did not quiver in the slightest.

“Well then if you’re so confident, you must be pretty high up the social ladder.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Eyes were pointed sternly towards her. She did _not_ like it. It felt as if she was being scrutinized.

She gave his words a moment to think about. _Social ladder? Her parents were both dentists, so they had gone to medical school. Was that high enough? Was he talking about something else?_ She was good at lying, but she had nothing witty to say, considering she had no idea what he was taking about. She’d heard the words ‘half-blood’ and ‘pure-blood’ thrown around, but she didn’t know what they meant. She hadn’t finished ‘Hogwarts: A History’ since she had been rather… occupied at home. Maybe whatever he was asking her was discussed in another chapter. She stuck with the truth, unsure of how to deviate his inquiry.

“Well my parents are both dentists.” Her pride still not snatched from her tone. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Dentists?” His bright brows creased.

By the way he’d said it, she was sure she hadn’t appealed to him at all. The confused gazes aimed at her confirmed that further.

“Yes.”

“There is no such thing as a ‘dentist’ in the Wizarding World!” He spluttered.

_Uh-oh._

“There isn’t?” She asked with the same punitive attitude, her strict position still not moving.

“I just said it, didn’t I? There is no such thing as a ‘dentist’ in the Wizarding World. So, spill, what are their real jobs…” His voice went significantly lower, realization striking him. What that realization was, Hermione didn’t know, but it wasn’t a respectable one, that much she knew. “You’re a _muggle_.” Malfoys final word was spat out with such a disgusting intonation that she instantly felt offended. 

Trying to put two and two together, the only idea that traversed her mind was that she was born from non-magical parents. They’d never told her anything about magic, and they were highly unamused when they found out their daughter was a damned witch, or as they put it, ‘the spawn of the Devil’. It was the only logical explanation she could come up with. 

“A muggle in Slytherin?” He prompted himself in his hands, towering over her form. “What strings did you pull to get in here, _mudblood_?” Certain people seemed to grimace at that word. “Huh?” He was well above her height right now, a shadow covering her entire body.

She remained calm and collected at plain sight, but she was slightly trembling and her heart had started running laps again. Above all that, she was angry. Angry, because she understood that she would be judged and prejudiced because of her background. 

“Well, considering that I had no idea what a so-called _muggle_ was or that there were any _blood statuses_ ,” she guessed the general name for the three groups, “I think it’s pretty clear that I didn’t pull any strings.” Fierce words, fierce tenor.

Malfoy stood back, a bit baffled, but his eyes were still squinted. It looked as if he felt insulted. _Good_ , Hermione thought. _Would do him nice to get a taste of his own medicine._

As he was still peering over her, it took a lot of effort to not raise a forearm over her head, defensively. _Must not show the truth that lies behind your deceiving eyes._

“You’ve sure got a lot of guts for a mudblood.” He was overlooking her again. _She did not like it._

“Why is my blood mud?” Hermione queried flatly, in complete seriousness. The tremble soaring through her body diminished.

Several audible laughs resonated along a very big portion of the Slytherin table. _What the hell was so funny?_

“You are by far the most pathetic person I have ever met.” Another tease followed, the words flowing out of his mouth with great ease.

Once again, he had the audacity to rise above her even more than before. 

_She. Did NOT. Like it._

“No.” Stone cold. “ _You_ are _wrong_. The most pathetic person I have ever met is you, Malfoy. You’re looming over me, making yourself immense amongst me, so that I would quake under you and give you the opportunity to make fun of me. You have no other greater quality above me, so you restrain yourself to the lamest method ever: looking big over a smaller person.” Her eyes were on fire, and she didn’t stand up at all.

She was not about to stoop to his level of stupidity; she knew she was better than that. Words are always better than using your physicality.

The Slytherins gaped in momentary astonishment, unsure of what to do. Somehow, everyone seemed to know Malfoy, even if he was a first-year student. No doubt he had some ‘royal’ family name, or a corrupted father. Nevertheless, Hermione found herself almost feeling sorry for him. _Almost._

A stillness loitered in their tense presence. 

“You are not as smart or grand as you think you are, Granger. I’d watch out if I was you. Being the only mudblood in Slytherin is dangerous.” His face was sizzling with fury, Hermione could tell. He desperately wanted to get at her, but it wasn’t working. Him thinking he could overpower her with his taller figure was what made her mad. _Never_ did she want to be in _anyone’s_ shadow.

“Well, then I guess that makes me special.” Hermione hoisted herself up, easily dismounting herself from the tight space of the ligneous seats. She took one step forwards and left sharply, but not without saying:

“Unlike you, _Malfoy_.”


	3. Minor Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, enjoy...

Hermione was exceptionally pleased with herself. She’d managed to put Draco Malfoy in his rightful place, as well as keep her composure. She hurriedly exited the great hall, unaware of the fact that she was actually not allowed to do such thing. 

Trampling over the school grounds, she grazed her fingers over a rough edge, feeling the crisp dust feather over the tips of her hands. She subconsciously smothered the tan powder between her fingers, brushing it away with a flick after seconds of playing around with it. Mesmerized by the high ceilings and vast, empty hallways, she paced away with no regrets. The loud noises created by the students in the great hall quieted down. 

For a few ample moments, she felt tranquility take over her usually irritated and short-tempered self; a feeling she realized she’d actually never come to acknowledge until now. Her spineless shoes made no tapping sound- they offered her the advantage of being completely silent. Her lips were sealed together in their usual plump form. Although she was having a few seconds to herself, her serious and icy face hadn’t changed. 

In her brief daze, she was unsuccessful in fathoming the fact that someone was patrolling after her. She abruptly stopped in her spot when she heard the huff of a low and annoyed breath, and what seemed like the swishing of a long cape. She did not turn around, just stood stuck to the ground.

“Miss Granger, is it?” An unfriendly, thick voice made its way into her ears.

“Yes.” She had still not identified the person talking to her, although she presumed it was a teacher.

“When I speak to you, you will face me.” It was an order.

“I shall,” she mentioned quite daringly.

The Professor raised an unimpressed eyebrow, clearly bothered.

“May I ask why you are out of the dining hall?” 

“May I ask your name?” Smooth words escaped her mouth.

It took a few moments for the tall, greasy haired man in front of her to respond, most likely because his brain was fuming and had to slow down its thinking process.

“ _Why are you out of the dining hall_.” It was not a question anymore, and his tone was definitely suggesting that he had become aggravated quickly. 

Protectively, she took a step backwards, her expression remaining fixed on him. She was not quacking, but she was planning.

For some odd reason she could not explain, she felt as if she _needed_ to run, not because she was afraid of him, but because she had this rush surging through her, telling her to do something bad.

Remaining on the spot for a few more moments, she gazed at him in a quizzical way. Without uttering another word and not thinking about the possible consequences of her actions, she took off. Where to, she had no idea.

But she ran, ran away from all responsibilities and worries, although as soon as she would stop, she knew memories would plague her again.

_Running up the stairs will do you no good, Hermione. I will catch you. You have to pay for what you’ve done. And you know what that means._

The words were slurred and slightly incomprehensible, but she could hear them afflicting her mind nevertheless.

She stopped promptly.

She knew the Professor was behind her by scarce steps, and would reach her in mere flashes. But she couldn’t move; there was no point. She waited idly for him to approach her. He hadn’t sprinted after her, but his long legs allowed him to make bigger and more forceful steps.

“If you decided to run, Miss Granger, why stop here?” His voice was laced with fury, yet she felt weirdly safe.

“Why not?” She hadn’t meant to say that, but she couldn’t restrain herself.

“You will stop testing me, foolish girl.” He scorned. Hermione was delighted; she'd gotten to him. “And you will come with me back to the great hall, _now_.” There was that unforgiving tendency again.

When she didn’t move, he shuffled over to her and grabbed her arm in a non-powerful manner, but she still flinched a little too violently. The Professor just perked his eyebrows in his usual way, still holding a lose grip on her and directing her back to the great hall.

When they got there, the students were just piling out in groups, no wonder in their given houses. The teacher guided her to her own, and left her to make herself comfortable in her house.

“My name is Professor Snape, by the way, and I am the head of Slytherin." He spoke it as if he was subtly telling her to watch out. "You would’ve known if you paid attention earlier.” His resentment had still not reduced, but Hermione found herself smirking at his comment.

*** 

The coolness of the dungeons hit Hermione like a truck. When she’d heard they were descending into the depths of the castle, she was without question, very eager. Dark and hidden away- that appealed very much to her. She was expecting a slight, coarse breeze down there, but it was more like a viscous wind that glided between the corridors without warning. No one else seemed to be too bothered, and Hermione certainly did not show that she was. She admired cold weather; in fact, it was her favorite. It matched her unsympathetic personality. She made herself believe that once she was out of these hideous shoes and shrill skirt, and into her ankle-length pants and boots she would be much more comfortable and confident. 

She soon came to learn that boys and girls were separated, and she headed up the staircase to the left, keeping on track with all the girls before her. She climbed at the back of the herd.

The instant they all entered their deep-toned room, she appreciated the ebony wood and murky green bed covers. Ties in their respected shades and a new pair of robes with their proud Slytherin badge were placed neatly on their beds. Shadowy colors always made her feel better, and more contented. She tip-toed unknowingly to the divan that sustained her luggage. She could tell it was hers because she hadn’t bought a trunk like she had been initiated in her acceptance letter; she thought it looked ridiculous. Instead, she opted for a large, black backpack, accompanied by a smaller leather one of the same charcoal color and a Muggle suitcase. It fitted all of her favored pieces of clothing and belongings, not that there were many. A few books and t-shirts she enjoyed were folded peacefully and put away inside her baggage. She opened the security latches and unzipped the largest container space of her trolley, digging for her pyjamas. _Were they all changing in the same room? That would be a problem, definitely_. She stuffed her navy nightclothes in her trifling hands.

“Where is the bathroom?”

There was no response, just dirty looks and unapologetic sneers. Hermione sighed in defeat, there was no point in further questioning. She left the safety of her quarters, and sloped the stairs all the way to the common room. 

She hadn’t had time to fully approve of it as they had been rushed into their dorms. _Dark and misty, just the way Hermione liked it_. Even the flickering flames were a pungent lime, marginally making her eyes hurt, but she knew she would adjust to them rapidly. The animal-skin couches were tainted in a color that was the same as the nighttime sky, circular dents littering it to form blown-up rhombuses. The carpets must’ve been expensive because the embroidery on them was on a superior level to any that she’d ever seen; the eyes of the jade snakes were red and menacing, and their scales were sewed on to excellence. 

She tottered away with small and light footsteps, not wanting to create any disturbing sound. God forbid that she would run into Snape, she had already gotten on his nerves enough for one evening. 

She looked back at the general hanging-out area and opened the doors to the hallways of the cave. She did not leave it ajar, erasing all possible clues that she had gone out. 

She swiveled her head around trying to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were. _Shouldn’t they be in the dorms? Or at least in close proximity?_ She saw no door to her left or right, but she did observe a very fancy double-entrance which she did not dare to open, that certainly did not lead to the lavatory.

Not even twenty steps onwards, and her ears stimulated themselves to listen to her surroundings. There was an undisputable scuffling of feet behind her.

“Out for a midnight stroll, I see?” _Of course it was Snape; could Hermione ever get a break?_

_The answer was no._

“No. I’m out on a treacherous search of finding the bathroom.” She caught herself say quite impolitely, yet jokingly.

Snape was not entertained. _Okay, no witticisms._

He eyed her full hands questioningly, which were crumpling up marine-colored fabric, but he did not comment on it.

“Follow me.” He had a peculiar way of pronouncing his words, as he tended to extend the final letters with a spiky note.

He led her through the hall and down a small flight of steps, delving even further into what seemed like the unending caverns of the dungeons. Everything looked the same though; the matching oily and shiny patterns on the walls, as well as the slippery stairs. Everything reminded her of serpents. 

He halted before a pair of small-scale flaps, beckoning her forwards with an outstretched and textile-covered arm. She glimpsed back at him as she walked in, attempting to push the swaying doors forward. 

Snape said nothing, but she heard the familiar sound of great feet taking three steps in a distant direction. The sound stopped after that. 

_He was waiting?_

That didn’t settle too well for her, but she gathered that he wasn’t allowed to leave a first-year student unattended after a certain hour and on their first day. The path back to the dormitory wasn’t a difficult one though; she knew how to get back. That dolt Neville would know how to get back, so why she was being treated as if she was on his level, she didn’t know. 

The exceptionally large bathroom was deserted. _Is no one showering or brushing their teeth?_ Truth be told, she hadn’t brought a tooth brush or shampoo, as she had been too focused on changing without anyone seeing her. It would be a nightly routine, she realized, at least for a while until she became more presentable.

Just to be sure, she entered a stall in case someone would walk in. She took of her heavy robes, hemmed shirt and skirt. She closed the toilet top and placed them in a pile on the plastic seat. Before sliding her pyjamas on, she was curious to see how she actually looked like at the current moment. She reckoned seeing lofty mirrors everywhere. She did put her trousers on though, trying not to get them dirty with her strapped-on shoes. She made a mental note to remove her knee-high socks when she would get back upstairs. 

Hermione stammered out of the toilet, discarded clothes in her arms, and made her way over to a wall, scared to see her reflection. She wasn’t one who cared for appearances too much, but to some extent she had to. She needed to if she didn’t want anyone finding out. 

Of course, she wasn’t too surprised with the image before her, but that didn’t mean she was fond of it. Taking herself in up and down, she noticed her narrow shoulders sustained by aligned collarbones, the frail line that represented her arms, and her meager ribs. She briefly smiled at her unruly and coiled, coffee hair that fell all the way to the beginning of her waist. Deciding that she didn’t have the luxury of staring at herself anymore, not because she had limited time, but because she knew it would do her no well, she let all her clothes fall to the ground, except her top. 

She lifted it over her head and down her appendages, shoving her mane out of her shirt's trap, once again cloaking the purple, turquoise and yellow splotches that were scattered upon her pale and young physique away from existence.


	4. First Deep Thoughts at Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, enjoy...

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered, the eyelashes batting away the crusty remains that lingered in the corners of her eyes. She closed them back to experience a few more seconds of darkness before opening them again. She lied down in the coziness of the thick covers that enveloped her like a cocoon. She felt heat rise up in her body, and upon further inspection, there was a thin sheet of sweat glazing her forehead. She had slept very well, disturbed by no impending nightmares or dreams, but she felt oddly sore.

She threw the duvet over, getting a hint of a low, cold breeze settling on her skin. She rubbed her eye sockets before she stood up, looking around the room.

_It’s not home. And it won’t be for a very long time._

Slowly, she made herself scoot off of her bed, placing the blanket back in a proper form before casing her feet in a pair of short socks. Hermione had not unpacked her suitcase; she was too tired after her short trip to the bathroom. She remembered what had transpired last night, after she had left the loo. Snape had waited for her and steered her back to her room in complete silence. She did not look back at him as he shoved the door to the common room shut, and clambered the stairs all the way to her dorm where all her roommates were placed in the furthest corner from her, since she had a wall-bed to begin with.

Now, no one was in sight. She panicked a little, wondering if classes had already started. They were supposed to begin at 8:30, and she had not set any alarm to wake her up. Praying to God that she wasn’t late, she rummaged through her backpack for a small table-clock she had brought with her. She felt the metal against her skin and plucked it out, looking at where the thin arrow-like hands pointed. It was 8:02, meaning she had time to do her hair and get dressed. 

She laid out all of her belongings messily on the top of the bed, searching for deodorant, de-tangler spray, and the clothes she would place underneath her robes, which were situated on the chest at the bottom of her bed.

She got dressed first, considering that that part was more important than making her hair contribute. She tugged on a pair of black, straight trousers, some boots in which the cuff of her pants would go in, a plain, white, crisp shirt and a jumper that matched the color of her slacks. She ran some de-tangling substance trough her hair, making the curls look somewhat decent and bouncy, followed by tunneling her fingers through her mane to get it to settle down. She made sure she had a hair-band on her wrist just in case, and flung her robes on and fastened her tie, proceeding to rush down to the bathroom to wipe her teeth clean.

After she managed to calm the most-likely horrid stink of her breath, she dashed back upstairs to leave her sanitary objects, and grabbed a wrist-watch from her nightstand to secure on her left arm. It was nine minutes to 8:30 when she realized that she would not have time for breakfast. Her stomach grumbled in disagreement, but it’s not like she hadn’t lived with an empty tummy before. _Felt it all the time at home, I can deal with it here for one day._ She folded up a piece of paper that informed her of her timetable and rammed it in her pocket. Hermione grabbed her smaller rucksack and trashed in all the books, quills and ink she had bought, and flung the satchel over her shoulder, heading down to Potions, knowing it was her first lesson. _Thank God it’s on the same floor as the dorms_. Her backpack was rather heavy.

When she entered the classroom, she ensured her presence was made unruffled and in an orderly fashion. It was vacant, all for the exception of Professor Snape who was at his desk, preparing a few interesting-looking ingredients. The room had the same somber and gloomy tint as the rest of the subterranean area, and Hermione felt as if some sort of light smoke was lurking in the air around her feet. It was not a well-lit classroom, as the only light was provided by some fancy kerosene lamps. She stepped in, her shoes clinking slightly on the stone floor.

Professor Snape did not look up, but it seemed as if her was aware of her company, since he spoke in his truncated, dangerous tone:

“Miss Granger?” He did not wait for her response. “You are… early.” He didn’t sound displeased or delighted; he was somewhere in between.

“I guess I am.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“May I ask why you are early? Do I need to remind you of the time your lessons start?”

“There are only,” she checked her watch, “five minutes until the start of the lesson, Sir.” 

Professor Snape raised his head and glared at her, testing her daring manner. She took that as a way of understanding that her answer had not been acceptable or even partially satisfactory.

“I woke up late and realized that I didn’t have time to go to breakfast, so I got ready and came down here.” She mentioned, straight to the point without any useless explanations.

“That is your problem, Miss Granger, and if this happens again I will make sure points will be taken away.” She didn’t say anything, just scoffed, not even vaguely caring about the points. “Take a seat.” He said, pointing particularly nowhere.

She waited, annoyed, for everyone to stifle in, filling the classroom with loud voices and laughs. At one point Professor Snape had sprinted out of the room before anyone else had come in, without a word. Hermione had wondered where he went.

When everyone was sat down, she huffed at the fact that Draco Malfoy was sat next to her. He flicked his tongue at her, spit falling on the clean pages of her fresh, new notebook. She turned herself slightly, showing her back to him. 

Out of nowhere, the door banged open with a cruel and gaudy sound, falling back in place afterwards. Professor Snape strode in, talking rapidly at the same time:

“There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class.” He started. “As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few...”

Hermione noticed Snape’s eyes direct towards her and felt strangely content for a moment, unbeknownst as to why Snape would ever choose to do such thing. But in a split second, she realized that it was Draco Malfoy he was so hopingly staring at, as she had heard him let out a nimble chortle with a hint of evil. She was attracted to that sort of laugh, yearning that it sounded the same when she would snicker. 

Professor Snape continued on, “Who possess, the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.” His voice was abnormally serene and calming, and the weird way he ended his sentences with a slight change in tone ringed nicely in Hermione’s perked ears.  
Professor Snape exchanged a fast glance towards someone at the back of the class, followed by an angry description of how Harry Potter’s fame isn’t everything, as he was unable to answer a few follow-up questions. Hermione’s hand shot straight up, confidently, with every inquiry Snape made, but he chose not to take her into account. She wasn’t too fond of his ignorance, but she duly noted that she would redeem herself soon. After all, she didn’t have to ask someone if she was intelligent, she already knew she was. And maybe a little too bold and blunt for her own good. 

After the end for their lesson, students piled out, but Hermione was surprised to hear her name being called out by the person who had just finished their tutoring. She plastered her back against the wall, feeling the chilliness that was emitted by it with her desiccated palms. 

Snape waited for everyone to clear the schoolroom before he said anything.

“Your behaviour yesterday and attitude have not settled well with me, Miss Granger, and will not be taken lightly. I expect you to come here tomorrow during lunch to help me clean the classroom after what will most likely be a disastrous and messy lesson with those putrid second-years.” He instructed flatly. “Understood?” She secretly laughed at his depiction of the second-years.

“Yes sir. I will be here.” She nodded and said speedily, walking out of the room without letting him speak back to her, grin evident upon her face. Just one last deviant act before the detention. It was surely not going to be the last.

**Severus was deep in thought. There is something about this child that I cannot pin-point. What a perfect candidate to Slytherin. A shame that she is Muggle-born. He’d wanted to say something after she had answered him, but she marched out with a fast pace, leaving him quite aggravated. What a little scoundrel.**

*** 

After their first day of lessons, Hermione felt exhilarated, yet exhausted. Her limbs carried her lazily over the dingy tiles of the hallways, and up to her bedroom. Dinner was coming to a near, yet she wished she could just climb under the soft covers of her sinking mattress, and resort to going to sleep early. For some anomalous motive, her favourite teacher, she had decided, was Professor Snape. He hadn’t shown any sort of liking towards her, but that didn’t matter. He seemed like a wholesome professor, and she anyways never liked the soft, un-strict people. Those type of educators were never too good at their craft.

Lunch had been fine; Hermione had tasted a little bit of something, but ultimately, she left her plate rather occupied by food. Her stomach got full very easily, as she wasn’t used to the massive array and number of dishes they had been presented with. Malfoy had sat opposite her again, not forgetting to let out the occasional comment or snide remark, which she either did not take into consideration, or came up with a clever comeback. As much as the rest of her house hated her due to her being a dirty mudblood, no one could help but snigger blithely at her wit. She was gratified with herself, yet rather unfortunate. _How the heck would she make friends in her own house?_

For the reminder of the day she dawdled around Ron and Harry, whom she had had the most… decent interactions with. They weren’t too welcoming of her, and Hermione couldn’t blame them, she had sounded rather cocky and bossy, and probably scared them when she talked about the perfect way of devising a plan to kill her fellow Slytherin members. Of course, she wouldn’t put it into action, but she wanted to have one just in case. Harry had been clueless, but Ron was very scared and shocked by the fact that a Muggle had been sorted into Slytherin. She didn’t know what was so terrifying, but she guessed that she had to have so much bitterness and cunning instinct in her that the Sorting Hat had been forced to place her in the house of pure and half-blooded folk. She derided at the discrimination, but was also cheerful that she had been the only one. Hermione internally let out a malevolent laugh.

She had hurried upstairs so that she could get there swiftly before anyone else did. She wanted a few moments to contemplate what had happened today, and what will continue to happen. _No more long, painful days at home for a while._ She was grateful to the God out there who made this possible, thankful of the entire universe, and wrathful towards her mistreating parents.  
Hermione plopped herself down heavily on the bed, tracing the lightly-dusted, raven frame. Patterns of swishes and snakes were carved elegantly into it, no rough edges or ragged peaks in sight. She removed her fingers unwillingly so, and let her head drop into her hands, which she prompted on her thighs. It was not a nice feeling at all, her sharp elbows pressing into the tender flesh of her leg, but she ignored it, like she always tried to ignore the hurt resting within her, literally and figuratively. She delved into a dimension of risky thoughts and questions, letting her mind swim frivolously for a few minutes.

_Will everyone find out at some point? Will they notice? Will I ever have to wear a swimsuit? Or a backless dress?_

_I want to. But I can’t. I can’t._

_Am I the reason for my own fate? For the hands of my parents abusing my fragile figure? They never tell me why. And that makes me mad. Raging mad. Why am I so ill-treated?_

_Stop._

_I cannot complain. It only makes me a whiny person. And I despise people who whinge. There are people out there who have it worst. You have a home at least. You are a witch. You could curse them into next year if you wanted. But you can’t. There are far too many consequences._

_How do I make friends when I’m cold to everyone? I can’t trust people. I can’t get close to people without betraying them. I cannot be completely honest with them ever. What sort of friend does that make me? One that they don’t deserved to be burdened by. They CANNOT know. I will be in more danger. More pain. And I don’t want more pain. I really don’t._

She sighed into her palms. Her eyes and face were dry, not a single lonely tear in sight. Hermione got up and wiped herself of imaginary dust. She smothered her robes in place, making herself look preppy and smart. Just as everyone ambled in, she meandered out, not making eye contact with anyone.

_It won’t ever stop, now will it?_


	5. Lesson (Probably Not) Learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a little shorter because i had some stuff to take care of and attend to, but i'll post a longer one tomorrow or in 2 days.
> 
> and as always, enjoy...

Another wave of long, yet pleasant, lessons hit her today, and before she knew it she had learned how to make a broom fly into her open palm, as well as witness Harry being a blithering idiot and flying off to catch a Remembrall that Malfoy had thrown away, far into the distance. 

She was still trying to lag around Harry and Ron, since they were the only people so far that was slightly civil towards her. Although, they weren’t too fond of her either, and to be honest, she had run out of ways to try and appeal to them. Malfoy was still being a pompous prat, and he apparently led the entire Slytherin house into believing that Hermione was a parasite that should be long gone.

Lunch had rolled around, and her inner being was protesting. She couldn’t do anything about it though; she had detention with the one and only Professor Snape, and she couldn’t afford to skip out on it. Tugging on her edgy boots, she hauled herself all the way down to the dungeons, longingly looking at the mess hall whilst she passed by it. She saw Draco in her peripheral, nudging his head towards her in an obviously unkind manner, as his latter of the table snickered wildly a her. She stopped in her tracks and glared ferociously back, not caring if he couldn’t see her or not. If it was up to her, she would’ve given him the middle finger, but the awakened eyes of the teachers at the big table wouldn’t allow her too. She launched a quick look up there, and as she expected, Professor Snape wasn’t there.

She knew she reached the dungeons when the cool draft of air established itself in her bones, making her shiver faintly, and when the glum nature of the chambers made an appearance. She crept towards Snape’s classroom, opening the door without knocking.

“Miss Granger,” his voice instantly resonated.

“Yes, sir.” She said quite dismissively, not wanting to be in this position right now. 

She slowly paced over to her seat and let put her backpack on the desk, making sure that it wouldn’t knock anything over. She slid a green, shiny apple from her pouch and placed in the pocket of her trousers, the weight of the fruit dragging them down slightly. She was hoping her hip bones would keep them in place.

Professor Snape gave her instructions to start sorting through a shelf of mysterious ingredients, reading new names and possible ideas popping into her intrigued brain. There was no word spoken between them as Snape apparently graded some papers and was shoving some items around his desk in place. After a good time of looking through letters and numbers to place the potion reactors accordingly, she stumbled upon one with no label or tag on it. She tried to figure out where it went on her own, but she didn’t want Snape tailing her ass after misplacing it completely. She strode over to him assuredly whilst lifting her falling pants upwards, prompting herself on the edge of his table to get his attention. Truth be told, she was also leaning against the wooden margin because she was feeling rather faint; the continuous standing up and shovelling around the spacious potion’s classroom, with no food in her stomach, made her a bit dizzy. 

“Sir, this bottle has no label, and I wouldn’t dare of putting it in the incorrect spot,” she mentioned softly, yet sarcastically, trying to appeal to him.

Before he could reply to her question, she heard her stomach perform a sonorous flip, grumbling loudly. She could envision the small bumpy waves that were rubbing themselves against the lining of her organ. 

Snape lifted a curious and pathetic brow, choosing not to attend to the awkward moment that had just took place. Shifting a stack of books from in front his face, he swiped them away with ease.

“Give it here,” he rasped submissively, and when she extended her arm, he snatched it away.

He inspected the miniscule flask between his wide fingers, turning it up and down. The blue liquid in it jumped and fell consequently, leaving turquoise traces of drips behind. The substance rested back to its original position when he held it up-right, letting a few mellow bubbles escape and diffuse in it. Hermione looked through the translucent material, seeing royal shades and abnormally magnified objects. Professor Snape seemed satisfied and unpleased at the same time. He placed the flagon on a piece of un-blemished and flat area of the mahogany desk with a quiet clink.

“Very well, I will put it where it belongs.” Snape instantly went back to his work.

Hermione trotted off with a visible nod of her head, her insides grousing again as she stepped away. She ignored it, pulling her slacks up once again.

“Miss Granger,” Hermione promptly spun her head to face him, “you don’t have to irritate me with the sound of your stomach, and I prefer you wouldn’t.”

“Um, okay.” She reacted uneasily, not sure of how to properly retort. 

Professor Snape sighed deeply before continuing, “What I mean is, go away and fill yourself before you attend my detention so neither you or I have to hear to that insufferable noise.”

“It’s fine, I’ve dealt with this before.” She brushed it off with a wave of her hand. She realized straightaway that she should not have said that. _That was a big mistake._

Snape merely lifted his gaze but remained silenced. She scuffled around at her working area, sorting through her backpack, searching for some water. She snorted when she reckoned that she didn’t have any on her, so she plunged into the concise space of her trousers where she had put her apple, and picked it out. She went over to continue organizing the designated items, when she was stopped in her place by Snape’s booming voice.

“I think that is enough for today, Miss Granger.” Her face had its usual stony look in place, but her composure showed the inward exhalation of relief she had let out. “I hope you have learned your lesson.”

“I certainly have, sir.” She tossed her rucksack over her shoulders, and aimed straight for the door, biting down hardly into her apple. 

Professor Snape opened the extensive doors for her, allowing her to leave.

“As horrible and strict as I may seem Miss Granger,” Hermione sparked her eyes at him, “I do not intend to let… children starve.’ And with that statement, he shut the door, not permitting her to have a say in the matter.

 _He was probably embarrassed by what he had just said_. Hermione smirked to herself as she stammered all the way to the dining hall, joining her nerve-racking house mates.


	6. Hermione's "First" Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, enjoy...

Weeks had come and gone, a bit too fast for Hermione’s liking, and she had found herself in the midst of a chilly October, which was also coming to an end. Lessons had been fine; they had gone tremendously actually, but friends were still and issue. 

Malfoy was still the obstructive piece of crap that she knew dearly, always casually throwing the usual borderline “smart” remark at her. Her stoic face always defeated his intentions proudly, and she knew had gained some new-found respect, even if most people hadn’t shown it. After all, it did seem like they were under Draco’s rule, especially Pansy Parkinson, who might have actually been even more revolting than Malfoy himself. Never making comments by herself and always being in someone’s footsteps. Hermione wouldn’t use very nice words to describe her. She clung to Draco’s neck, and honestly, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Her scrunched up bulldog-like face did not help.

She knew she had messed up. Big time. Harry and Ron were pretending to stand her, yet she knew they definitely didn’t. Sure, they shared a few experiences like finding an enormous three-headed dog and wondering the forbidden hallways, but her final reaction to the entire ordeal wasn’t too friendly. She recalled saying, word by word:

“Now I’m going to bed, before either of you find another idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled.” 

Followed by a sturdy march-away exit.

But it was true, at least for her. If given the option, she would much rather choose being beheaded over being expelled, and then heading home to her pathetic excuse of a mother and father. She was sure she would receive the beating of a life-time, ant that obviously did not ring well in her ears.

Hermione still preferred Professor Snape over all the other teachers. Why, she wasn’t too certain, but she was having fun producing comical things to say to him, even if he didn’t seem to be enjoying her attitude. You’ve got to admit though, some of the lines that spilled out of her cursed mouth were witty.

Her everyday night-time routine was in order, and she would go to the bathroom to change her clothes in the stall. Of course, this came with consequences, as all the snotty girls teased her and even tried to break in into her stall, to which she vividly remembered shouting over the wooden door, “You like something you see? Or do you just want to share a stall?” That shut their traps up enough to get rid of their banging at her door.

Today was Halloween, and Hermione wasn’t looking forward to it. Kids going around asking for candy was creepy and useless, at least that’s what her parents taught her. Anyways, she was sure there would be none of that nonsense here, but you know, just the general idea of dedicating a day to sweets and unrealistic costumes seemed pretty childish and stupid to her.

Everything had gone well, up until Charms. Hermione being Hermione, she couldn’t contain herself not to throw a bossy retort at Ron after he’d messed up with his Wingardium Leviosa spell. Hoenstly, he was doing a very poor job and he could’ve been a hazard to the class, but of course, he hadn’t realized that. 

What bothered her was that he wasted no time in saying that “She’s a nightmare and no one would want to be her friend”. Hermione didn’t usually ponder on things that other children confronted her with, but for some reason, this time it felt different. She knew she hadn’t been trying hard enough, but her constantly working brain thought that she could at least make a decent attempt at it. Or that she had. She was fully aware that her coldness towards other had not subsided, in fact she found herself distancing away from others more than before. But now it was as if she just realized what a pain in the ass she had been, and continue to be. That she was an absolute failure; not even able to succeed at something so basic that everyone with a sane head could accomplish.

So as a result of this unwanted, but necessary, experience with Ron, she dismissed herself and darted for the bathroom, wanting to be alone in pure silence. She didn’t want to cry, but she was rationalizing about what a disappointment she had been to herself. She found herself peering over the scars that she could access easily, like a small part of her torso and upper arms after rearranging her shirt. They laid peacefully, yet harshly on her milky skin. They disgusted her to the point where she would feel like gagging when seeing them. She hadn’t inflicted them upon herself, but some of the blows she had received were hard enough to split her sensitive skin, and there had been times where a sharp blade had entered the battlefield. The angry, red line that smeared across her bicep was ragged, standing out in a gruesome way. She tricked herself into believing that she got this from a dog, but really, she was just trying to deceive people who asked. It wasn’t often that she wore short-sleeved shirts, and she wasn’t about to go around Hogwarts displaying her physical trauma. If anyone were to see her abdominal area and back, they would freak. Or they would most likely taunt her about it.

She was sitting on the porcelain plaque that covered the toilet, dangling her feet underneath her. She looked down at her shoes, counting the black laces uselessly. She reached down to tie them tighter, as she noticed that they were toying around her ankle. Lifting her head up, she rubbed her hands on her legs, and then proceeded to smudge her eyes in partial defeat. She ruffled her hair down, and jumped from the toilet seat, brushing her robes and trousers for no particular reason other than the fact that it was a gist she sustained.

Her ears registered aloof yells and screams, as well as heavy footsteps, but she scorned them as the students rushing out of the great hall. She ran a finger over the lock and dismembered it, scampering in an energy-deprived manner out of the stall. She did not expect to find a giant, green troll standing greatly in front of her.

It was a vile creature; his head was sinking into his thick neck, the layers of profuse scale-like skin toppling over each other. His feet were large and weighty, his toes severely overgrown. He hadn’t screeched anything, but Hermione could already tell and sense that his breath stunk badly.

A tiny fraction of her wanted to shout, but she wasn’t as afraid and shrill to do that, not that she had the vigor within her to do so anyways. She took a few careful and light footsteps back, putting a big gap between her and the hideous creature that most likely was looking forward to devouring her. Just before she could hide under the slight safety of a cubicle, the troll had bent down and tried to snatch her up. He didn’t grab her though, she shifted away and she was like a fly in comparison to him. 

In her state of faint anguish, she could hear a wail heading towards her. The bathroom door banged open, and between the legs of the monstrosity before her, she could make out the figure of Draco Malfoy, who was still undergoing a moment of evident terror. Hermione shouted out his name resentfully, paying attention to the moving arm of the troll.

“Calm down!” She shrieked desperately at him.

“Calm down? There’s a deadly freaking tro-” His words were cut by a scream that escaped his already trembling lips as he saw the beast swing a bat at Hermione. 

She got struck with it against her stomach, making her slide back and into a tiled wall. She held a hand over the painful area, looking around to see where Draco was.

“Granger!” She surprisingly caught Draco yell.

“Don’t… don’t pretend like you care.” She spoke softly, yet loudly.

“I don’t, but if you die here, I’m screwed, mudblood!”

Hermione had been sure that his voice sustained a small amount of worry, but she let it fade away. Slowly, she stood up, holding onto the wall. She ducked out of the way of the troll again, only for Draco to shout something illegible to her buzzing ears. In that same moment, Harry and Ron showed up unexpectedly. This day had been full of astonishments.

Hermione crawled away under the sinks whilst Draco, Harry and Ron exchanged a few dirty looks. The troll was facing them now as it got bored with Hermione. Ron was trying his Wingardium Leviosa spell on the bat whilst Harry was dangerously rocking from the mortal's hand. Draco was standing away, in front of Hermione, blocking her view slightly. She emerged from below the basins, and crawled over moderately. She motioned to Ron how to ‘swish and flick’, the wand movements for the incantation to be more precise, and he obeyed, making the bat fall promptly into the troll’s head. It dropped Harry on the ground, but the bat was plummeting right where Draco was situated, without him noticing. Hermione ran and leaped of her feet, pushing Malfoy away, mere seconds from being flattened by the wooden stick. She dropped right over him, but at least she had managed to save him, even if he was a tremendous prick.

She smoothly raised herself off of him, and Malfoy offered her a passive look for the first time ever. It wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t a face that radiated utter revulsion towards her either. She was content with it. She transferred herself with difficulty over to a sink and held herself against it, her stomach throbbing terribly. 

They weren’t lucky enough to escape before Professors walked in, their faces etched with fury. They asked questions, and Hermione was quick to take the blame for everything, explaining to McGonagall and Snape that she had gone looking for the troll foolishly and the others had tracked her down and saved her. It was the least she could say after what she had supposedly done to them. 

The teachers looked extremely disappointed with her, but she didn’t care. She was glad she was able to help for once, and hopefully this would show them, well Harry and Ron at least, that she had meant well from the beginning, she just didn’t know how to express herself. 

The Professors signaled them out, but Hermione wasn’t going to be let go that easily. The second she took a step away from the grasp she had on the washing bowl, she collapsed down, hugging her ribs. She remained there, unable to move anymore.

Unpredictably, both Snape and Malfoy made a move toward her, as well as Professor McGonagall, asking what was wrong. She elucidated with no restrains, knowing that she could blame the bruises on her torso on the troll attack. Ultimately, Professor Snape offered himself to take her to the Hospital Wing as he was her House Teacher, and she couldn’t help but feel happy at his actions. She was lifted up gently by Snape, her arms cradled around her waist, and she was off to the infirmary in a flash.


	7. The Joys Of The Hospital Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long break, but i started school and am currently studying for AS and A level exams (this girl decided to take all three sciences and psychology so kill me now).
> 
> this chapter is short, but i hope to post more soon. the workload is a lot currently.
> 
> i will not let this ffic die, so always watch out for updates :)

Hermione woke up to the dull air that captured the entirety of the Hospital Wing. There was a subtle lamp hanging above her head, emitting a dash of faint light. She couldn’t see too well, and the curtains were enclosing the windows. Judging by the faded sound of crickets singing, it was night-time. 

Hermione had no problem gathering the events that led up to her current situation, and she was also kindly reminded by the heavy ache spreading all over her abdomen. She pulled the covers over and lifted up her shirt to see the bruise that had been caused, but she was bandaged up fully. 

What she couldn’t identify though was whether her insides had been crushed under the pressure of the troll’s bat. It certainly felt like it in that given moment, although she was sure it wasn’t that bad. A broken rib was definitely a result of the impact, as she remembered the sickening crack ringing slightly in her ears when she was thrown into the wall by such huge force, and later jumping against Malfoy hadn’t been the best asset.

And then she recalled the pleasant smiled that Harry and Ron had given her, as well as Draco’s non-aggressive and rather calm face. Maybe this opportunity had been granted to her in order to make friends. They definitely must’ve been grateful to her after that performance, right? Nevertheless, her mouth inched widely towards her ears, not wanting to return to its normal, non-approachable position, waiting for the early morning to come so that she would be let out.

*** 

Hermione had fallen asleep in the hospital bed despite the pain that lingered in her stomach. She was too tired to contradict herself, so she just drifted away peacefully. The curtains were no drawn back, Sunlight hurting her sore eyes. She felt sleep-deprived, but she was sure it was just her fatigue setting in. 

Madam Pomfrey walked in through the doors, her little waddling penguin walk amusing Hermione slightly. She was short and quite round, but Hermione wasn’t too surprised. She instantly came by Hermione’s bed, asking her a dozen questions about how she was feeling and commenting on how nasty that hit had been.

To be perfectly honest, Hermione wasn’t in the mood to talk about her stupidity regarding the troll incident; she had relived it too many times in her head anyways. After Madam Pomfrey changed her bandages she was told that she could leave at lunch, when her ribs would be set completely in place. Hermione threw her head back against the pillow, puffing in disappointment. She didn’t want to miss anymore classes. 

She was curious to see how her previously inwardly-mangled torso actually looked like. Instead of the smaller and rather splattered bruises that usually colored her fair skin, the aftermath of her heavy throw must’ve been a lot more impressionable. Was it more inclined towards a deep purple? Perhaps indigo? Or was it tainted towards a saddening blue? She couldn’t exactly take her bandages up; that would be stupid. A small thought flashed through her brain. She knew that Madam Pomfrey had seen her putrid skin, but what she hadn’t acknowledged was how Madam Pomfrey had also had the pleasure of seeing her lame excuse for a body. She must’ve seen her angled elbows, disgustingly peeking ribs and bony knees when she changed and wrapped her, right? What if she would start getting questions about why she was so undeniably skinny and frail? What would she say? How would she say it?

Hermione had no idea why she was getting so worked up, since she had managed to lie effortlessly several times before. Her mind was overflowing with intoxicating thoughts about all the possible bad outcomes of this entire situation. Her brain had entered an all-paranoid state that she hadn’t quite reached before, at least not at this level. She didn’t have time to complete her incoherent thoughts, because she heard and saw the Hospital Wing door bang open, a whisper of voices accompanying the initial boom. She knew it was Harry and Ron by the double echoing of their steps, and plus, no one else would have dared walk in to see her since no one else exactly liked her. For some inexplicable reason, she hoped Malfoy would just stroll in. Even though he was a prick, she wanted to be civil with him. Unfortunately, the white-haired boy she hoped would arrive did not peer in, but nevertheless, she was happy that two other people had joined her; people who would probably become her first friends.

They asked her how she was and when she would get out, and she didn’t have very exciting news for either of those questions. Their chat was not too significant and lasted a short while due to Madam Pomfrey’s insisting, but by the end of their talk, Hermione felt slightly at ease with the pain that seemed to linger inside of her chest. They left with a small wave and quite goodbye, and Hermione hoped she would see them next morning at breakfast, ready to be a good companion to their already established duo.


	8. UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> update

helle everyone, i will start updating this story pretty soon; i might post a chpater tomorrow. i have been focusing on my end of year AS exmas, and once those are over i will most definitelyby uploading regularly. thank you for the appreciation :)


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